Of Rabid Robes, Christmas, and Apple Pie
by vanillapudding5
Summary: Letters between the Weasley twins upon expansion of the WWW franchise. [Plus, a little product placement.] Written with Pumaful at LJ for CastleHogwarts' December, 2005 quidditch match.


Dearest George,I do think it's rather silly that I'm writing you this letter when I could just Apparate down to Hogsmeade and talk to you in person. However, considering what happened last time (I still have the scar from where you chucked a box of the Writhing Watches at me), I think I'll just stay here, holed up in Diagon Alley, and let you read this letter at your own leisure.In any case--I must say that it was a stroke of brilliance of mine to separate into two branches just before the holidays. Everyone needs a good box of pranks to give as a present, wot wot? How're you doing setting up the dump that old Zonko left? Did he stuff the place with exploding firecrackers and the like? That's what I'd do if I'd ever have to close up the shop. Hope you didn't blow off your nose, or something. Then everyone would be able to tell us apart, and what's the fun in that?On to the main reason for this letter: got any ideas for a Christmas Assortment? Seeing as it's our first Christmas with two different locales, I rather do think that we should do something...special. I was thinking a Christmas gift basket--with some Wailing Wine that sings Christmas carols, some Cha-Cha Cheese to dance along to it, and some Exploding Chocolate?Let me know if you have any ideas; seeing as most of our stock is up here, I'll make it up, and send a couple hundred down to you. Bless those Hogwarts children's hearts: so easily exploitable, each and every one of them.Ta-ta, Brother of Mine, and make sure when the letter explodes, the sparkles are green and red and a smell of apple pie fills the air. Seasonal stationary, mm?--Fred

Fred -You make it sound as though I injured you _purposely_, when you know full well that I'd never do anything of the sort. We're flesh and _blood_, you and I. "I hurt when you hurt," and all that tosh. No, I didn't hit you with the Writhing Watches intentionally; I was aiming at _Ron_, who'd been standing directly behind you, if you'll recall. He really _does_ think he's entitled to free merchandise, the poor, naive dear. Someone had to set him straight, and if _you_ hadn't stepped into the room, I would've. Just like the good old days of Gryffindor Quidditch, eh?Anyhow, you pegged me with a handful of Chomping Chocolates out of spite, and everyone who's _anyone_ knows that bite mark trumps scar...Unless you're Harry. But I suppose he's a special case.Anyway. Things are all right, here, though Zonko, the bloody wanker,_did_ leave behind a few surprises. Probably thought we'd enjoy them or some such. I'll have you know - I most certainly did _not_ enjoy losing my left eyebrow (hurry now, charm yours off, too, so we'll match. Or better yet, I'll enclose one of the crackers. Just put your face up real close, shut your eyes, and say, "I wish I was a fairy." Sets the little buggers right off - don't ask how I figured it out).As for Christmas Assortments. I was thinking along those lines just the other day, as I sat in The Three Broomsticks flirting shamelessly with Madam Rosmerta (she wants me, I tell you. And that, dear brother, is what you get for forcing _me_ to relocate while you say behind in a cushy Diagon Alley store front. As ideal as we may have seen it in visits to Hogsmeade, Zonko's old place really is a bit of a dump. I'll leave you with Madam Malkin, shall I? You always were a sucker for pinched cheeks and motherly affection).Anyway, there I was in The Three Broomsticks, sipping a nice, hot butterbeer, when suddenly, it came to me. The best, most brilliant idea of them all. Why don't we -No. Wait. Are you completely, utterly, _absolutely_ positive that you're alone? That no-one will read this but you? Look over your shoulder. Are there any suspicious characters lurking in the shadows?I don't care to take the risk. You know how people can be. Zonko, himself, stole a few of our brainstorms back in first year, do you remember that? Innocent eleven year olds, the both of us, happily scheming away, as all young boys should, never suspecting...Nose-Biting Teacups. Honestly. Your suggestion to call them Piping Hot Nose-Honkers was _so_ much more imaginative.But I digress. You understand, I'm sure, my reasons for being so careful. If only you'd gone along with me _years_ ago, when I proposed the invention of a secret language. I told you it'd come in handy someday, but you _insisted_, as only a brother who's a "second andthree quartersolder, and therefore thinks himself Merlin's gift to wizardkind, and controller of poorGeorge" would._Feffer__hilpenscraften__jupengloggen__welderheimer_You'd know what that meant, if only you'd listened. (Or studied German. Rather looks like it...)Think of the galleons, from impressionable Hogwarts students' moneybags, all. We could've been millionaires, Fred._ We could've had it all._- George(P.S.: Despite a distinctly pie-like scent filling the air, I've yet to see any sparks, green or red in color. What I _have_ gotis a nice, apple-y film coating the front of my robes. Though, you know, that'd make for a nice, "surprising" holiday product in itself. Hmm...)

George-I think Madam Malkin would _love_ to have me, the dashing, suave young gentleman that I am. Actually, I'm not so sure. After rejecting my most generous offer to sell the Strangling Suits through her store, she was attacked by one I accidentally left behind. I can't say she's been very fond of me since--no gingerbread for the holidays, that sort of thing. Ah, well. We live and learn, no?Oh, honestly, Brother of My Heart, Soul, etc. etc. We started that language of yours, remember? Only you made it so complicated that we had to stop, as seen by your example.And anyway, it's two seconds older. Give credit where credit is due.As to your idea: brilliant as it surely is (Weasely genes kicking in, eh?), I'm sure you were right not to write it down on parchment, where it could be so easily seen. Maybe we're slightly paranoid...but then, aren't all entrepreneurs?Hmm. I suppose I will have to Apparate down in Hogsmeade, and leave the beloved, warm, cushy Diagon Alley behind (I laugh at you, by the way. You should've learned by now never to trust a sickle I flipped, especially after we just got that shipment of Double-Headed Coins).Anyway: time and place? How about the Three Broomsticks at, say, 7:00 Sunday night? I'm dying for a good firewhiskey--as beloved as Diagon Alley may be to me, they simply _can't_ compare to Hogsmeade for good drinks. I suppose being right next to Hogwarts drives all the natives to drink, or somethink.-FredP.S: Modified the letter, O wise one--how's it working now?

F -I told you - I _told_ you - that those suits were a bad idea, didn't I? Remember? That one day? I'm sure you do. You said something to the effect of, "BEHOLD! THEY'RE FINISHED!" and _I_ said, "I don't know if this is such a good idea, Fred. _You might strangle __someone_," and you blinked and said, "Well of _course_ I might strangle someone. Anyway,they were_your_ idea."Which reminded me that yes, it was _my_ brilliant mind that ushered in the reign of rabid clothing. And all was well.Although. When you're _you_, and leave them lying around in shops without a care in the world (if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: Cages are _key_), you _do_ run the risk of alienating potential love interests. Particularly those of the, shall we say, _older_ generation. They tend to be rather finicky.Andlet's not get _too_ high and mighty dearie; you may very well be a dashing, suave young gentleman, but remember: we're twins. _Identical_, at that. Meaning that we look alike. _Meaning_ that _I'm_ just asfetching, if not moreso. That's all to say that I'd come down from my throne a bit if I were you. Unless, of course, you meant it as a compliment to your favorite brother (namely, me; I _know_ you, and I also know that, regardless of what you say, you like me better than Perce). In which case, thank you; you're too kind.Drinks at the Three Broomsticks sound simply _lovely_, my dear fellow. We'll have a few firewhiskeys, I'll tell you The Idea (capitalized as it most certainly must be), you'll pass out, I'll find themeans to pay the bill in your money bag, &c., &c... Deal?- GP.S.: That was a trick sickle? Bloody hell; I thought I'd _hidden_ a stash...P.P.S.: Mission: Seasonal Stationary Test II - Successful. The shop reeks of apple pie, and my vision's clouded with red and green. And gold. You added that, didn't you? Clever.

Forge-Very well. See you in Hogsmeade, old chap.-GredP.S: You did. That's where I got them from.P.P.S.: Gold, you say? Hmm. Interesting...

_Spotted in the Daily Prophet, December 5__th__ issue…_

**JUST BECAUSE…**It's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' first season as a two-branched pranking facility, proudly sporting locations in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade (all the more to bring you Holiday Joy), the prime joke store is proud to present…

**JUST ****BE**** CLAUS!**_WWW's best prank yet!_Turn unsuspecting friends into The Big Guy for loads of holiday fun!["Just Be Claus" Santa transformation prank is applied through potion mixed into drink or food. Should not be taken by pregnant women, seniors, or wizards/witches with heart conditions. Injuries of the prankster are in no way the fault of the company.


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